


Human

by Hinn_Raven



Series: RVB Angst War [19]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Double Agents, F/F, Robots, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven
Summary: Agent Connecticut's girlfriend isn't human. Now she has to figure out how to handle that.





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> I’M ON A ROLL splendiferousblog asked for “ CT discovering/telling Tex she's an ai fragment (bonus points if they're a couple)” And, you know me, I’m a SUCKER for TexCT, so let’s get this show on the road!

Connie’s girlfriend isn’t human.

She’s joked about that before, when Tex comes out of a fight, still full of energy, never seeming to tire or falter. She’ll kiss Connie and the world will shift, and Connie will laugh. “You’re not human,” she’ll say, before following Tex’s lead, which inevitably ends in one of their rooms, tangled beneath the sheets, limbs overlapping and smiling goofily at each other, like that’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Tex doesn’t know that Connie’s a traitor.

Tex also doesn’t know that she’s not human.

Connie goes through her newly obtained files quietly, tucked away as she is in one of the rare corners of the base where FILSS can’t see her.

There’s something quiet and forbidding, about the way that the text looks on the page. There are photographs, of a woman named Allison, of a robot body, slowly becoming more and more human as the photos move closer to the present, until it’s Tex, who looks just like this Allison, only somehow… more. More defined, more beautiful, more _real_ , somehow.

She’s seen Alpha’s files before. She goes through them again anyways, and now, that she knows, she can find the gaps, the parts of the story where Tex should be, where she’s being talked around.

She’ll need to find the uncensored version of that report, the analytical part of her, the spy, knows.

There are interviews and evaluations of Tex, and she skips them. The thought of reading through them sits sour in her stomach, even though she knows she should. She’s supposed to be ripping apart Freelancer from the inside out in the name of the law and righteousness, not respecting her girlfriend’s privacy. Her handler would be furious with her, if he knew.

She’ll go back to them later, she promises him mentally, even though she’s not sure if she’s telling the truth.

Tex and Connie’s first kiss had been in the showers. Connie had followed her in, giddy with sparring and curious to see what Tex would do, how she would respond to the proposition.

The response had been a bruising kiss, pinned against the slick walls of the shower, the spray of the shower soaking through their clothes, drowning them until they were forced apart. Clothes had fallen to the floor and then Tex had pounced on her again.

“You’re a mystery,” Connie had told her.

“That’s you,” had been Tex’s response.

Connie hadn’t meant to get attached, she thinks now, staring down at the neat, clinical language that describes a Shadow AI. She had just been looking for a little fun, a little relief, a little… release. Texas had been a mystery, but everyone was a mystery when they joined Freelancer. Most of them made a point of it. They were all running from _something_ , and Connie had ferreted it out for all of them.

All of them except Texas.

Until now.

Texas isn’t human.

She wonders if she should have seen this coming; Tex has always been too strong, too heavy, too perfect. Connie’s worried, before, about how much the Director fusses over her. She’s wondered, possibly, about something weird and insidious going on—Connie’s no fool, she knows that Freelancer experiments _on_ them, not just the AI. She knows that South and North are being pulled apart, knows that the Leaderboard is driving wedges between all of them, and she thought that the interest in Tex was just a part of that. Creating an air of favoritism, driving Carolina to new heights.

But it’s worse than that.

Because she’s found the name of this Allison.

 _Allison Church_.

No wonder Carolina has never seen Tex’s face—pretty much none of them have except Connie, she’s pretty sure about that.

Tex is a mystery that’s not of her own design. She’s steel and fiberglass and copper wire, ceramics and plastics and machine oil. Her hair is some sort of high tech polymer that would make wig makers weep. The budget for that body could probably fund Connie’s college tuition twelve times over.

Connie has to tell her, she realizes, staring down at all of this.

This isn’t breaking the military law, or psych experiments laid out in the open that no one else wants to see. This is who Tex _is_ , being lied to, being played with, as part of some sick man’s twisted form of grief.

Connie should have stayed away after that first night. Tex had swept her up in her tide, and a kiss had turned into one thing which had turned to another, which had lead to Connie finding bruises all over her body and having to pretend she was screwing a sanitation worker to get South off her back. It should have been a one-off thing.

But she was intrigued, and maybe addicted, and after the third, fourth, fifth time of them breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, still kissing each other with a desperation even though the act itself was done, chests aching with laughter, maybe she was just a little bit in love.

Oh God, she’s in love with a woman who isn’t human.

Connie had noted Tex’s lack of scars, but Tex had made a few off handed comments about a bad bombing incident which had lead to reconstructive surgery. She can find a faked report of that incident in this file, made up to sound real, placing Tex in the midst of a real squad, all of whom had died, making Tex a sole survivor of a group, with her own name now classified so that no one can tell that there’s a hole.

Explanations and excuses, and it’s all so transparent now that Connie knows where to look.

She’d let reconstructive surgery explain the almost inhuman beauty. She’d let armor mods and stims explain the ridiculous strength, and Tex’s jibes push aside the questions about her past, a past that, Connie knows now, Tex doesn’t remember.

Because it doesn’t _exist_.

Connie feels like she’s in a stupor, like she’s drowning.

She goes to Tex’s room, where Tex is working out, lifting weights that don’t do anything for her, because there’s no muscle to build, just steel.

“Did you seriously just come here like that? What if someone saw you?” Tex stops when she sees her face. “What’s wrong?”

They hide what they have; they have to. It’s against all protocols, threaten their standings, get them thrown out of the project. God knows what Connie’s handler would do to her if he knew she was sleeping with the enemy, and even worse would be what the Director would do to both of them if _he_ knew what they got up to.

“Tex,” she whispers. Dread has blossomed in her stomach like weeds, and she feels choked by it. “I’ve done something horrible.”

“What?” Tex asks, looking bewildered. “Okay, come lie down, seriously, you look sick or something—”

“You’re not human,” Connie says.

Something changes in Tex’s face, and the entire world shifts.

“What?” Tex says, her voice soft and dangerous. The calm before a storm.

Texas is fiercely loyal to Project Freelancer. She is programmed to obey the Director, to defend him and the Alpha. Connie had seen the code herself, the objectives, has seen failsafes upon failsafes built into Tex’s very being.

Connie wonders if she’s made a terrible mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> Angst War prompts are still open! I'm at secretlystephaniebrown on tumblr if you want to hit me up!


End file.
